


We Don't Love Anymore

by momothesweet



Series: We Don't Talk Anymore [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Coffee Shops, Food Critic Oikawa, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru Angst, M/M, Post-Break Up, Universe Alteration, because they ain't falling in love here lmao, but it's like an anti-coffee shop au, i'm sorry for this but also i guess angst is important sometimes, photographer Iwaizumi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 04:18:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10403766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/momothesweet/pseuds/momothesweet
Summary: Oikawa goes to a coffee shop. He doesn't like it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> OH BOY
> 
> Welcome to the first oneshot of like four containing all the sads
> 
> I'll probably explain more in the series author notes but here you go and I'm sorry

_Bland and uncharacteristic. It’s like drinking a blank sheet of paper_.

Oikawa scribbles more scathing notes in his notebook, glasses half-fogging from the too-hot mocha and fingers going white from how quickly he’s writing. Many of his friends say that he’s got one of the best jobs in the city—going around town, trying new places, eating and drinking for free.

The latter, first of all, isn’t true. Though his salary is reasonable due to his position in a magazine sold throughout the country, he still has to pay for all of his meals. Nothing gets passed to him for free, no matter how much some chefs and baristas silently beg for good reviews. Secondly, being around the city long enough means he knows every type of crowd there is. From rowdy drunks in low-class bars to hipster coffee shops in the middle of nowhere, Oikawa has seen them all. At least the atmosphere in this particular shop is decent. Sure, it’s cramped. It is, after all, sandwiched between two other shops in a plaza the size of a pea. Hell, across from this place is another coffee shop with more competitive prices. Yet he isn’t urged to escape his seat.

He gives the coffee another try. This time, it isn’t scalding. Unsurprisingly, he still doesn’t taste a damn thing. No white chocolate, no hint of sweetness despite his requests to add extra sweetener. Even the whipped cream and chocolate shavings on top don’t give the drink any redeeming qualities. Usually, he scoffs at such a drink and gives it a sentence-long note of criticism to drive the point to its proper place, but he isn’t having it today. He’s got two other places to go to today, and he’s already fucked up one of his major senses to actually _do his job_.

_A hot, blank sheet of paper. I’m sure Satan himself would enjoy such a drink so much that he would offer a cup to the unfortunate souls who had much better coffee in their previous, miserable lives._

A few more notes about the drink and he puts his pen down to unhinge and hinge his fingers rapidly. An unkind tenderness seems to be arriving faster than he expects. It’s only ten in the morning.

Then again, doing this for a few years with nothing but a pen and notebook can get to a person. His co-workers have told him to invest in a tablet or to just bring his laptop to write his review then and there. Oikawa has refused time and again, despite the continuous (and unwanted) suggestions. There’s something more authentic, more genuine about handwriting his notes. All of it, starting from his very first review of a very small oden stand back in Sendai, either looks like chicken scratch or calligraphy. There is no in between.

At least, that’s what his old partner would have said to him.

His old partner would have said a lot of things.

Wait a few minutes for the coffee to cool. Don’t write so fast. Order something salty off their menu to balance out the sweetness of your drink.

Across from Oikawa is an empty seat and no voice at all.

Then that characteristic bell rings when two more customers come in. Oikawa could not have picked a worse time to come here. Just when he’s about ready to dig into his pain au chocolat, his brain digs into memories he thought he buried deep enough that they’ll be forgotten.

Iwaizumi looks good. Half a year has done him well enough—kept hair, crisp jacket in navy blue. It looks like he’s got a set skincare routine with the glow Oikawa observes on his face, but perhaps that’s just the lighting that is much too bright for a coffee shop that’s supposed to be low-key. A place like this would suit Iwaizumi. Meaningless wall hangings of seagulls, a single houseplant in the corner that needs to be watered, a bookshelf with titles Oikawa has never heard of. This place might as well be named after him.

The corner seat farthest from the window is not Oikawa’s favorite place to sit when he reviews coffee shops, but it makes a great hiding place to study Iwaizumi’s actions and movements, from standing in line to ordering to taking a seat in the middle of the shop, in a chair that looks like it’s been pulled from a blind grandmother’s yard sale. Luck has no purpose here. Oikawa knows that because Iwaizumi would only have to look up and turn his head a few degrees to the right to lock eyes with him.

He rips his pastry with more force than he expects. It’s only been six months. For some people, it takes years to get over a person. But six months should be enough. Six months was enough time for Oikawa to clear his head, fly across the country to another city, and try some of the deadliest foods in the world even though he said he never would.

Except he did none of those things.

Six months went by and Oikawa did nothing extraordinary, nothing eye-opening. Frequent visits to Kuroo’s apartment and their favorite bar can only do so much for someone who...well, lost it.

It’s not in the sense that Oikawa completely misplaced his sanity. That is, if he had the sanity to begin with. In fact, he thinks that would have been a better reason why he and Iwaizumi didn’t work out. Kuroo disagrees.

The fact of the matter is, it didn’t last forever. All those bits of childhood, those victories from high school volleyball, those dates and texts and plans for the future...they’re all temporary. Iwaizumi didn’t catch bugs anymore once they got to middle school and started taking up volleyball. That win from Karasuno only lasted until they lost later on. “I love you” texts were deleted a thousand times over.

He isn’t sure if the chocolate in the bread is more bitter than his own brain right now. His chews are rough, the dark chocolate hitting his palate like punches that aren’t like the friendly ones that try to keep him in line. The flakes of the pastry scratch his mouth, a sudden form of saltiness to slap his cheek in the worst of ways.

_The pain au chocolat should just be called pain, except “pain” should be read in English rather than French._

At this point, anyone who _isn’t_ Iwaizumi could tell him that he’s being too harsh. This shop has only been open for a few weeks, but it won’t last long if it doesn’t improve on its offerings. Oikawa doesn’t understand the other patrons enjoying their drinks. Did their palates get burned off after their first sip, as well?

There isn’t much left to be done now but to take a somewhat decent picture of his partially-eaten pastry and crappy coffee. He taps his phone a few times to check some junk mail but gets distracted when he hears clicking a couple meters away from him.

Of course he brought his camera. Since college, Iwaizumi has never been without it. Oikawa still remembers some of those photos edited to the highest quality of all the different places they’ve been to—Paris, Los Angeles, Sydney. Years’ worth of scenic images. Years’ worth of his face in many of them.

He wonders if Iwaizumi’s kept those photos. There must be gigabytes’ worth of photos between them, between work and home. What once was home.

Oikawa tries not to look up when Iwaizumi turns his body a few times in his seat to snap some pictures. He stares at his notes, his very rough draft of a review of that will likely cause a dent in this shop’s reputation so massive that it will take a miracle to fix. The clicking stops eventually, only to be replaced by a voice.

A feminine voice.

A feminine voice calling Iwaizumi by his first name.

“I’m sorry, were you waiting long?”

Oikawa shoots his head up and looks at the girl—long legs, dark hair like Iwaizumi’s. He probably got that skincare routine from her because from where Oikawa is sitting, she looks absolutely flawless. The chocolate melts in his fingers as he looks on at her, rosy cheeks and a light blue sweater and a smile that makes this place less like hell and more like hell at the same time.

Iwaizumi puts his camera down next to his coffee and turns away to stand up and give the girl a hug, arms wrapped snugly around her waist.

_Feeling up her B-cups, Iwa-chan?_

They look comfortable together. She takes the seat across from him and starts speaking about something out of Oikawa’s hearing range, no matter how subtle he tries to be when he leans forward into his own table and pushes his plate and coffee cup aside. As if Iwaizumi timed this all perfectly, one of the baristas appears with a steaming cup of some drink that will likely be just as mediocre as the poor excuse for a white chocolate mocha. She’s bubbly when she says thanks. Iwaizumi likes that. A lot.

Oikawa can tell by the way he smiles, too.

It’s too much. He slaps his notebook shut and stands, tucking the pen behind his ear and leaving behind the almost-full coffee cup and barely-eaten chocolate croissant. Looking straight ahead, he briskly makes his way out of the shop, unwilling to relive any more memories and uninterested in knowing whether or not Iwaizumi is doing more of the same things he did with him to charm that girl in the light blue sweater.

If that place manages to survive, Oikawa will try it again in six months. That's more than enough time to improve and change for the better.

For the most part, he believes in second chances.

That's what he likes to tell himself.

_For the most part._

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to apologize again for the angst. [Here's a link](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MrrcOsMMM54) to fifteen minutes' worth of cat vines to make up for it.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Comments, kudos, feedback and quality pain au chocolat are greatly appreciated! <3
> 
> [Tumblr ](http://shoujomomo.tumblr.com) | [ Twitter](http://twitter.com/iwaizumiii)


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